


Green is a Terrible Color

by sal_amander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, FTM, M/M, Non binary CT, Project Freelancer, Trans Carolina, Trans wash, harry Potter is other, idk what ct and south are called, literally everyone’s gay, mainewash - Freeform, mtf, nork, norklina, trans Maine, yorklina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_amander/pseuds/sal_amander
Summary: He was walking towards Voldemort, fully prepared to die. To sacrifice himself. The acid green spell hit, and he woke up to start his day, bothered by his nightmares. The other freelancers know Wash was hiding something. They just don’t know what. For example, why he’s terrified of the color green.





	1. It’s not really waking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I decided there weren’t enough crossover Fic’s for Harry Potter and RvB, so here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Badum.

Badum.

Badum.

He could hear his heart like drums in his ears. Loud and unforgiving. He had every right to be scared. He was just a kid- just a seventeen year old kid! God, he wanted to scream! Shout! Yell to the world, he didn’t deserve this!

But…

Did he?

Harry paused for just a moment, to think about it. 

Yes. He did in fact. In his mind at least, what was happening was justified. If it happened to anyone else, then no. It wouldn’t be. But himself? Yes, he decided. He deserved this.

He grew up as a freak child, a delinquent. Even if he committed no crimes as a young child, he was sure he was. Unholy, his aunt screeched, when she found the cat Dudley and his friends had mutilated. Freeloader, his uncle had shouted after he found Harry passed out on the lawn due to heat exhaustion. Abomination, his cousin hissed, as he ran from him and his gang of followers.

He killed his professor in first year. It didn’t matter in his head, that it was self defense. Second year, apparently talking to snakes should be punished. Third, he lost the very thing that could free his godfather. Fourth, he lost his best friends. Fifth. He must not tell lies. He kills his godfather. Sixth, he kills Dumbledore.Seventh to now, spent on trying to find a way to kill someone. Even if that someone was Voldemort.

So yes. In his mind, he deserved every minute of this. He began walking again. Straight to Voldemort, his soon to be killer. He didn’t hit a word out before the spell struck, dead center on his scar.

The world flashed as he fell, and suddenly, he woke up, jolting upright in his bed.

He thought those dreams left years ago. Nightmares of when he was a kid. They were not something the twenty nine year old was proud of.

He sighed and slipped out of the bunk and slipped on his armor, quiet to make sure he didn’t wake up the other person in the shared room, Maine. Slipping the grey-yellow armor on, he went to the cafeteria. Today was pancake day, and he sure as hell was grabbing some before they ran out.

Nearly slamming the doors open, he just about ran over to the non-existent line and grabbed a large stack, sliding next to a half asleep York who was muttering incomprehensibly. 

Without a distraction, his mind wandered to his dream. 

He rarely thought about his life before freelancer, but when he did, he tended to dwell for a while. Mechanically, he ate his pancakes while his thoughts drifted off to the past.

…

Harry sighed. It was a few days after the war ended, and he hadn’t a moment of sleep. Any time he closed his eyes, he could see Voldemort as he shot the killing curse. It was working hell on his appearance, but no one seemed to notice. They all celebrated the end of the dark lord.

And then suddenly, he was in a courtroom, under an Accusation by an anonymous tip that he murdered multiple pureblood heads.

No one seemed to care they were death eaters. 

Harry’s sacrifice meant nothing.

They only asked questions they know they’d like the answers to.

He was thrown into Azkaban on his birthday. 

For nine years.

On his twenty sixth birthday, he was released. The only reason? A new dark lord has risen. 

They wanted him to save them. And of course, he grabbed what sanity he had left, and refused. He fled to muggle America and did odd jobs. Fixing furniture, painting houses, walking dogs- he loved dogs. 

On his twenty eighth birthday, the wizards caught him, and decided execution by the Veil was necessary. 

And so, he fell through the same thing that took his wrongly accused godfather. Oh, the irony.

...

Harry was not falling anymore, but drifting.

He was vaguely aware of alarms screeching to a start. His mind was mainly focused on one thing though.

He couldn’t breath. 

And it was cold. So, so cold. 

And dark, and, and, oh… how pretty the stars were… if only the ship would move out of the way… 

Why was the ship flashing? And blaring it’s alarms so? 

Harry noticed a smaller ship shoot out and towards him, but he couldn’t think much on it. Or at all really. His head hurt too much for that.

And his lungs.

And it was so cold. 

He couldn’t think much of anything till the ship sent out little people that dragged him inside. One of them was… beige? One the other was… purple and the other color… he couldn’t remember.

It hurt to think this hard.

Suddenly he heard a click and felt something press against his face, and air flooded his lungs.

He sat up with a jolt, coughing violently. He tried to take breaths, but his lungs seemingly refused, instead spasming without rhythm or control. His vision was blurred when he looked around. 

Purple and… oh yes… green. He remembered the color suddenly, along with its connotations, and surged back and away from the color.

He could barely breath, but stumbled back all the same, towards a wall. He heard murmuring and shouts, but couldn’t decipher any of it. He could see a blurry mass of color that soon too went dark as he fell unconscious.

…

There was a quiet murmur when he awoke. The talk ceased as he sat up slowly, taking a deep breath before he opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright light af what he assumed was some sort of medical room. He heard a quiet beeping, and all the tech concluded these were muggles.

He turned to the people in the room. Two men in what looked to be their late twenties early thirties sat there. One in a beige hoodie, the other in a purple tank top. They started talking to him. Asking questions. But over all? They were nice to him. Welcoming, in a way.

It was still his twenty eighth birthday. But maybe, in a small, confusing way, it was his best.


	2. Why Wash is a Sensible Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new haircut and holy shit he actually made a friend.

Harry was just being released from the ships on board hospital, baffling the doctors with how fast he healed. There was no remnants of his long exposure in space unprotected. The beige person - Harry hadn't gotten their names - had made a quip about that when he overheard.

He was currently wandering the halls almost aimlessly. Each passage and corridor looked the same to him. To him, it was odd and surreal.

Living in the muggle world for a few years made him knowledgeable in the subject of technology, but he barely recognized any of it. When he looked out of the windows, he couldn't recognize or find any familiar constellations- years of astronomy paid off.

The beige and purple guys had left a bit back. Apparently they worked for something similar to some Special Forces if what he gathered was correct. 

A voice rang from a nearby computer, beckoning Harry over. It had a few directions on the screen, telling him where he needed to go. A line on the ground flared to a glow, making it a bit easier to follow.

Harry shrugged, he hadn't much to loose.

It only took a few minutes of walking, following the computers, and opening doors to get where apparently needed to be.

A man was sitting behind a desk, looking as though he had been waiting just a bit too long for his liking.

Harry shrunk in on himself absentmindedly, and cleared his throat. 

“Ahem, um, thank you for uh, picking me up..” 

The person raised his head a bit, and Harry stopped talking.

“You must be wondering where you are?” The man had asked, no tone betraying any emotion.

Harry nodded quietly.

“I'm wondering a few things to. Like why you were in open space without your suit, Agent Washington.”

He blinked. “What do you… I'm not-” Harry started, but the man cut him off

“I realize such. However I do have questions. How long were you out there, when there were no ships or habitable planets for systems away? How did you survive being in open space? Why you were in open space?” The man listed, again without much emotion.

“Well…”

“Unfortunately, because of this, I can't let you leave. So I'm putting you in my program, Project Freelancer.”

At Harry's blank stare, he continued.

“Were an organization that specializes in various... jobs. I'll put you in as a new recruit. Agent Washington as I stated earlier. Do you know how to fight?” He said with a stare.

“Well-”

“We’ll fix that, then. You’ll be staying in a room with another Agent. Here is your room number and a map. Good day.”

Harry was essentially thrown out of the room after the dismissal, and he stood in place for a moment. He fumbled with the device in his hands and managed to turn it on, scrolling through its functions. 

There was a search engine, notes, a schedule, some leaderboard things, pending missions, a chatting app, and a calendar… odd that it had such a futuristic date. Harry- Washington? Harry clicked on the calendar app, and nearly dropped the tablet. The date… that couldn't be right, right? He closed the app with shaky hands and looked up the directions to his room, pushing the odd too-many-years-in-the-future date to the back of his mind. 

Walking to his room took a bit longer. His room, yes. He was told he had to share one with another agent. That was going to be a slight problem. 

He didn't even know who this agent was.

Briefly, Harry thought about going back to ask the man- he hadn't even gotten a name for him! That was soon vetoed when he glanced back. It was so far and he was already pretty tired. More so emotionally than physically, however it still had an affect.

He looked back to the door to his room- when had he arrived? After a short debate, he entered slowly, thankful when he found no one inside. 

There were two beds, one neatly made, the other bare with a few folded blankets and a pillow at the foot. That must be his. There were two small dressers as well, at the end of rack bed, and a small shelf lining the wall a few feet above the beds. The one over his bed was bare, but the other was filled with books, odd trinkets, and pens. There were two stands in either corner of the room. On the other person’s side it was empty, appearing like a human. On his side, a full set of solid grey armor was positioned on it, with a few spray paint cans beside it.

He’d customize it later.

There was another door in the room, which turned out to be a bathroom. A mirror, sink, cabinet, toilet, and a few racks with towels, otherwise being pretty bare. And no shower too. Great. That meant communal showers. He loosely tugged his shirt forward at the thought, a bad habit of his even if he’s had the surgery.

He’d have to check them later, and maybe talk to some official-like person about that predicament. 

He opened the cabinet to find a few odd things here and there. Toothpaste, razors, scissors, and some unused hair dye in the far corner, along with a few bottles of painkillers. In a split moment impulse decision, he grabbed the scissors and razors, and started messing with his hair. He grabbed the mess of hair that had been by his shoulders and started cutting. It ended up wildly uneven, especially on the sides, and was still relatively long. Harry frowned, and started working at it again, not hearing another person come in.

“You’re doing it wrong” a deep voice said from behind him, making Harry drop the scissors and curse loudly. 

“Shit, man, you could at least warn-” Harry stopped immediately when he saw the actual person. 

If you said the man was large, that would be an understatement. The man was hulking, had scars littering his body, and those muscles, those could crush him in an instant.

The person left for a moment, dragging a chair back in. “Sit. I’ll do it.”

Harry compiled immediately, too intimidated to even ask what he was going to do for his hair. Sitting quietly, he waited for the man to finish. He winced slightly when he turned the rasor on, watching his hair fall to the ground. It was an undercut sort of style, Harry noticed, almost sighing in relief when the person turned the razor off. He tried to stand up but stopped when the person put his hand on his shoulder. “Not finished yet.” Harry blinked, and sat back down. 

“You know, i haven’t gotten a name for you yet.” He said quietly as the person rummaged through the cabinet. 

“Nor have I.”

“Oh. Right, um. Im Ha- uh, Washington. Yeah.”

The person looked at him.

“Were supposed to use the code names they gave us.. Right?” Harry asked quietly.

The person nodded. “Agent Maine.”

Maine finally pulled out a bottle of hair bleach and some gloves, pouring a bit out and working it into Harry’s hair. It burned his scalp slightly, but he said nothing. After a while, Maine pulled back, took the gloves off, and washed his hands. 

“You’ll want to leave that in for around thirty more minutes,” he passed Harry what looked like a shower cap, “so it doesn’t get on stuff.” 

Harry stared slightly. “Uhm, thanks, Maine.”

Maine nodded and walked out of the smaller room, sat on his bed, and pulled a computer out.

Harry put the cap on and pulled out the tablet, setting a timer for thirty minutes, and made his way to the grey armor, examining it.

“That’s the standard armor they give new recruits. You can leave it like that or paint it.” Maine said from across the room.

Harry just hummed a response and looked at the colors available. There was a sort of aqua color, beige, yellow, and green. He frowned, putting the latter away immediately. Eventually, he grabbed the yellow, only on account he didn’t like the shades of the others, and grabbed some tape to outline where he was going to spray. After a bit’s work, he set the pieces to dry and noticed his alarm going off. 

He rinsed his hair out in the sink and dried it off with a clean towel, his nose wrinkling when it still smelled like bleach. He ran a hand through his hair, still slightly damp, to get a feel for how it looked. A bit yellower than expected. He’d have to keep up with dying the roots though, which kinda sucked. He should probably condition it soon, he noted with a frown. Great. He grabbed a towel, soaps, and change of clothes, and walked back out and over to Maine, who was reading something or other. 

“Hey, uh, could you tell me where the showers are? No one really told me…” He said quietly.

Maine nodded and got up, telling him to follow.

The hall was empty, thankfully, and Harry could only hope the showers were as well. Maine stopped at a door and gestured to it. “Can you get back fine?” He asked, and at Harry’s nod, he left. Harry turned to the door and opened it, walking into a reasonably large room. There were stalls lining the walls, and an isle in the middle had sinks and a long portion of tabletop. One side had normal bathroom stalls, the other had showers. 

He walked out the door a moment. No, there was no gender seperation. He didn’t have to deal with that particular worm, though there still was a whole can left. He walked back inside. There was a shower running in the back, but that was the only other person in here, he believed, so that was a plus at least.

He grabbed a stall somewhere in the middle, not near the door or the other person, and went inside. There was the stall part, and separated by a curtain, the shower part. He locked the stall behind him and turned the water on. While it got warm he stripped, looking pointedly away from himself, and grabbed the soap. 

Just as he stepped in, the other shower stopped, and he could hear the other person rummaging around. He could hear the click, and the other person go to the table and mirrors, doing something. It wasn't his business, so he shrugged and got to work on his hair, when a voice called out.

“No one else ever uses the showers around this time, you the new recruit I heard about? With that space incident?” A feminine voice asked.

Startled Harry dropped the soap and he cursed loudly. He could hear the persons quiet laugh. 

“Uh, yeah thats me. Um, nice to meet you?” His voice squeaked slightly, and his face burned. That may have been the hot water though, at least that’s what he told himself. 

“Huh. What’s your name then, newbie?” the voice inquired.

Harry frowned at the nickname. “What’s yours?” He shot back.

“I asked first.” The voice snarked.

There was a pause, and Harry sighed. “Washington,” he said finally.

“Connecticut. Friends call me CT though.” 

“Connie, then.”

He heard a huff, and a quiet ‘not you too’ but he thought nothing of it.

“I’m calling you Wash then.” Connie said, and he could hear the metaphorical smirk.

He blinked, pausing. “Wash?” He asked.

“Well, yeah” Connie hummed, “I mean Washington is too long, and I met you while you were - are - taking a shower. Be glad it’s not like, Washingtub or something.”

Wash snorted. “Gee, thanks.” And the conversation died out after that.

After a while, Harry turned the water off, and stepped into the stall part to dry off. Pulling a generic grey hoodie and some shorts and sandals on rather messily, he stepped out, still trying to get all the water out of his hair. He nearly tripped when he saw Connie still there, doing their hair. 

Connie turned to him and stuck their hand out with a grin.

“Time for proper introductions! I’m Connie, They/Them”

Wash looked up, eyes sparkling, and took their hand. “Wash. He/Him” he said, noticeably happier than earlier. Connie just got a knowing look in their eye. 

They finished tying their hair up and grabbed their things. “See you during training?”

Wash blinked. “Yeah, uh, sure” he said quickly. Connie barked a laugh and slapped him on the back. 

“Oh you're in for a wild ride tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! It was longer! Uh anyway i hope it made more sense this time around? Im thinking about rewriting chapter one at some point but I dunno.

**Author's Note:**

> Terribly sorry this chapter is so short, but, I hope you enjoyed it? R&R if you want to. Tell me how you feel? Thoughts?


End file.
